


Dragon Wants A Hoard

by NightLily



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dragon Jaskier | Dandelion, Fluff, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightLily/pseuds/NightLily
Summary: It’s a well know fact that when a young dragon comes of age they must be in want of a lair and hoard of their own. The only problem with this is that Jaskier had no fucking idea what he wants to hoard and thus no idea where he should have his lair.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 60
Kudos: 240





	1. First Meeting

It’s a well know fact that when a young dragon comes of age they must be in want of a lair and hoard of their own. The only problem with this is that Jaskier had no fucking idea what he wants to hoard and thus no idea where he should have his lair.

His parents only always told him that when he was ready, when he had found his perfect lair and chosen his prize jewel, his nesting instincts would take over and he’d start filling his chosen lair with his baubles. What utter _Horseshit_. Jaskier had been drifting aimlessly through the country side and had yet to find an expectable space for his lair, for a species that was supposedly rare there seems to be a bit of housing shortage. Jaskier had been told politely and not so politely to move along so many times he’d lost count by this point. The last one had even tried to eat him which was very rude if he did say so himself.

In the first few years since leaving his parents Jaskier had donned his human form positively brimming with excitement and joined the humans at Oxford, up until that point the young dragon had believed that his love of song and stories meant he was destined to be a collector of all things musical, preserving the stories of times long gone and heroic deeds through song. At first everything had seemed to be working out well. He had settled in and taken to the classes like a duck to water however the urge to nest and hoard didn’t manifest, he hadn’t given up, these things took time after all but after a number of years, increasing frustration, mounting wanderlust and a truly unfortunate introduction to one Valdo Marx, with none of the natural _urges_ making an appearance, the little dragon had had to admit defeat.

The Dragon come bard had gathered his trusty lute and struck out as a traveling bard. Maybe he just wasn’t meant to be trapped in one place, maybe he was destined to wander the continent and be a living keeper of history and song.

Which is how he finds himself in dragon form, spread across a large rock in the middle of a forest. Lulled by the sound of the running stream nearby. Sunning his belly in a lovely bit of late summer sunshine while humming to himself, claws tapping idly along to the tune, tail swaying side to side where it was hanging over the edge to stir the flowers below, eye lids dropping, well on his way to a midday nap. Travelling can really take it out of you, a short nap wouldn’t hurt before he changes back to his human form and makes his way on to the next town he thought with a yawn.

Between one blink and the next he was snapping back to full alertness. All senses straining to work out what woken him. Little heart hammering so hard he was amazed it wasn’t jumping out of his chest. It’s the smell that reaches him first, rotting flesh and old blood. Followed by the sound of cursing broken by the occasional nicker and snort from a horse.

He slithered off his boulder and crouched down. Peering through the long grass as the sound of human and horse got closer. Jaskier could feel his heart speeding up, thanks to his muted grey colour, he hadn’t grown into his adult colours yet thank you very much, he would blend fairly well with his surroundings but he didn’t want to risk a human stumbling across him. Encounters between dragons and man rarely ended well for anyone involved. With any luck the approaching person would pass him on by, he would just change into his human form and pretend to be a harmless bard but he had no way of knowing if the other person was friendly or if he was better off keeping his ability to fly away if it turned out to be a bandit. The indecision settling heavy in his stomach and a low whine started to well up in his throat as his fear mounted.

He didn’t have long to wait as soon a horse carrying an armoured rider entered the clearing and made a beeline for the stream. It was hard to make out much about the rider as covered in filth as he was but there was no mistaking the dual sword strapped to his back or the gold eyes that swept the clearing. Witcher! Jaskier could feel his wings and tail start twitching with excitement. Not that he wanted to be seen mind you but he wouldn’t mind a closer look, so he started creeping closer, belly low to the ground, wings folded down as close to his body as he could get them, slipping through the long grass.

When people thought of dragons it brought to mind great beasts that towered over houses and huge sweeping wing spans that could block out the sun but in the dragon world size came with age. At this particular moment Jaskier was thanking any deity that would listen, there was something to be said to still being the size of a large housecat. Everyone knew the stories about Witchers, told at bedtime to keep hatchlings in line but they had always held a certain amount of excitement and fascination for Jaskier but he never thought he’d get to see one in the flesh even if he was covered in…Oh sweet _Melitele_ , is that entrails.

The Witcher by this point had dismounted, removed his horses tack and started stripping to wash in the stream. The blood had dried and set, the shirt sticking to a broad back, making the Witcher struggle a bit to get it off, dried blood flaking with every move. While he was distracted Jaskier took his chance to skitter under the chestnut mare and approach the half open saddle bag, oh he had heard so many stories of all the things a Witcher carried in their saddle bags and he was going to get a peek even if it killed him.

A nicker behind him had the dragon whipping around and arching his back like an angry cat, flaring his wings, eyes darting to the side to make sure the Witcher was still occupied and yes, he was still over at the stream trying to get the worst of the blood out of his white hair. With a small sigh of relief Jaskier turned back to his target only to come face to face with the chestnut mare, he’d never even heard her move Jaskier realised with a sense of dread as he stared in to intelligent eyes, were Witcher mounts bred differently too he wondered as the horse’s nose lowed to get a good sniff, her whiskers tickerling his face. The look in her eye like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to bite him or flick him like a particularly annoying fly. After a few seconds of eyeballing each other, she snorted and moved off to graze. Breathing another sigh of relief, the little dragon took his chance and dived into the saddle bag head first, tail waving in the air, success! He gave a happy little trill as he ran his claws over each bottle, feeling the different shapes and committing each colour to memory.

His fun was short lived however as a firm hand grabbed him by the tail and yanked him back out. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut as he was brought back out in to day light. Dangling upside down the little dragon was over come with the urge to play dead and if nothing else he always listened to his instincts, he went limp everywhere, allowing himself to sway gently, hoping in vain that the Witcher would be fooled and discard his seemingly lifeless body. When nothing happened for a few minutes he cracked his eyes open and peered up into the white haired Witcher’s unimpressed face.

Summoning all his courage Jaskier blinked his blue eyes up at the man holding him aloft, “Be straight with me Sir Witcher, on a scale of one to ten, how much trouble am I in?”


	2. Traveling Companion

Geralt Stared at the Little grey Dragon dangling from his hand at a loss on what to do with him. Confused and a little annoyed that this pipsqueak had snuck past him and violated his saddle bag he responded with more heat in his voice than he intended “That depends, did you ingest anything in that bag?”

The little dragon blinks at him for a beat, a sheepish look on his face before twisting and climbing up his own tail to slither himself onto the witcher’s arm, forcing the whited haired man to let go of the tail or risk hurting the funny little creature. It’s blue eyes bright with excitement and voice almost with a song like quality. “Not a thing, I just wanted a closer look. I’ve heard so many stories about your kind you see and-“

Out of pure self-preservation Geralt stopped listening as the cat sized dragon rambled on and on about how excited he was to meet his first witcher and all the stories he used to hear as a hatchling. His tail had wrapped around Geralt’s arm for stability, the very tip flicking faster the more excited he got. Until this moment the witcher had had no idea that it was even possible to say that many words at that speed. If he was held at knife point, he might be moved to admit that it was quite cute.

Geralt tuned back in to the dragon walking his claws up his arm, tone still filled with nothing but glee and that should have been a warning sign for things to come, “Are you going to kill me? That is what you do don’t you, kill monsters? Last I checked humans would say I fit that bill.”

The witcher feels almost ensnared by the bright blue eyes staring at him, almost like the dragon was asking him another question with just his gaze. Posture relaxed and calm as though he hadn’t just asked if the big bad monster hunter was planning to murder him and take his head to the nearest town for coin. Geralt was taken aback and a little indignant. “No. School of the Wolf doesn’t hunt dragons.”

What Geralt had been expecting to happen after that he didn’t really know but he definitely wasn’t expecting the face full of happy chirping dragon that was _hugging_ his head.

“Well met Sir Witcher! I am Jaskier, full time dragon, part time traveling bard and I believe destiny has thrown us together this day.”

“Hmm”

After prying the dragon off Geralt wandered back down to the stream. Trying in vain to ignore the little creature hopping along behind him. Best not to get attached, he thinks to himself, its just a flight of fancy.

The little dragon visible deflated when his grand announcement was meant with disinterest. Instead of being discouraged however the dragon started scaling the witchers pants leg. Gushing about all the adventures they will have together and the many songs that will be sung of the heroic witcher’s great deeds.

Geralt pulls the loud little dragon off of his leg and plops him a on rock, levelling the little menace with his best no nonsense look. “You will not be traveling with me. My work is far to dangerous to bring you on the path with me. You’d be something’s dinner inside a week.”

The Jaskier froze before puffing himself up, wings flaring out and teeth bared. Looking quite intimidating if he did say so himself. Hissing at the witcher, “Need I remind you Witcher that I am a dragon. I’m far more fit to be out on the path than you will ever be.”

Geralt snorted at the display, little dragon looking more like a vaguely pissed off pigeon than a threat. “You’re fit to be boots and not much else.” 

“Ho-How dare you!” Jaskier was standing back on his hind legs, clasping front claw to his chest while the other was throw dramatically over his eyes, “You slay me Sir Witcher, I have been felled by harsh words if not wit. My very dragoness has been called into question. How will I ever recover from such a harsh blow.”

The witcher will deny this to his last breath but the sight of dramatics forced a small and he cannot emphasise this enough, _small_ laugh from him. That was all that was needed to have the little dragon back to bouncing and hoping around his feet, slight to his dragoness forgotten. Ok fine, maybe he could see the benefit of a traveling companion but only until the next village.

“Fine. You can accompany me to the next town,” Geralt grunted with a put-upon sign, can’t seem too eager for company after all. Bad for the image.

The sound the little dragon made at that announcement could only be likened to kettle whistling.

“You won’t regret it Sir Witcher!”

“Geralt.”

Jaskier paused in his celebration and fixed the witcher with a strangely serious look.

“You won’t regret this Geralt.”

Three days of near constant singing later Geralt had regret, he had many regrets.


End file.
